He Noticed
by PrincessDesire
Summary: First in the Brother's Keeper arc. This is a KylexCartman pairing, my favorite. In this installment, Kyle has been cutting himself and Cartman notices.
1. Chapter 1

Authors note: This is the first story in the Brother's Keeper arc.

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Once Kyle accepted that you don't have to like a person to love them, his turmoil over Eric Cartman settled like a soda left out overnight. As far back as grade school he had had such terrible, conflicting feelings about the sociopathic asshole. He hated him, loathed him, but was drawn in any way to who Cartman was. There was some messed up part of him that kept returning to Cartman's side every fucking day.

Kyle speculated about his masochistic streak as they entered high school and his emotions developed into a crush. Well, something like a crush. Since their friendship was already atypical, referring to what Kyle felt as a crush was doing it injustice. He wanted to beat the shit out of Cartman until he was no longer able to make that damn smug smirk of his. When Cartman would launch into his racist or sexist tirades, he wanted to wrap his hands around that chubby neck until all words ceased forever.

Then there was the other side of Cartman, the side that made him cover his lap with a textbook or lay awake in the dead of night feeling feverish. Honestly, they were the same side. Somewhere along the way frustration had become sexual frustration and Kyle was feeling lost in the transformation.

He could tell himself that it was only adolescence working its vengeful black magic, but he knew better, knew it was Cartman. The charisma and intelligence most people longed to have mixed with the dangerous moral apathy and self-obsession creating a potent combination, Kyle's Kryptonite.

At sixteen, Kyle became a cutter. His self-revulsion over the lust for his enemy played a part, but it was impossible to discount the powerlessness of Kyle's entire life role. He was controlled by his fat domineering mother in a single-parent household, taunted regularly by upper classmen for his height, and incapable of getting his driver's license after a series of epileptic seizures. The only time he cried was when he bled and he needed the release as much as he needed the power over his body. It was like masturbating. Afterwards he had the ridged healing skin to run his fingers over to comfort himself.

In a town of perpetual snow, hiding the marks was not a challenge. His mother didn't notice, but she spared little time for Kyle or Ike now that their dad had moved out. As a lawyer, Gerald had made the divorce go smoothly and maintained as much parental right as he wanted. Unfortunately for his two sons, he hadn't wanted much since he was so preoccupied with his mid-life crisis. They spent every second or third weekend with him and since he acted so put out by it, they tried to just stay out of the way. Kyle would save up big school projects for these weekends if he could to keep his brain busy with things other than his own breaking heart.

It was Cartman who first noticed the cuts. He more than noticed them; he knew what they meant and cared.

They were at the mall. It was just the two of them since Stan had football practice and Kenny was dead for a while. The arcade in the mall was ridiculously overpriced, but they still played there on occasion. Kyle chose his games carefully not wanting to stimulate his newfound epilepsy, though it wasn't as easy to set off as most people thought. It actually didn't hinder Kyle too much since his favorite arcade game had always been the basketball hoops. Not only did he rock at them, but they gave tickets.

Cartman was holding a plastic gun and shooting angry aliens with intense concentration. Kyle liked moments when he was so distracted by something; it gave him time to really look at Cartman. He'd think just how basic Cartman's looks were. He was a pudgy brown-haired brown-eyed boy with a weak chin and perpetually chapped lips. His rosy cheeks were spotted with acne. If Kyle had only just met Cartman, he'd have used the word "average" or "plain."

"The air hockey table is free," Kyle said nonchalantly. He'd examined his crush for long enough.

"Shutup asshole!" snapped Cartman. Kyle glanced at the game. Just as he suspected, Cartman's character was totally screwed and it'd be game over in under thirty seconds. The aliens left slash marks and blood behind when they got a hit and the screen was coated. Cartman let out a yell as his character was lost under and alien dog-pile. He growled at the "game over" on the screen. Then, Cartman turned and glared at Kyle. "You just had to talk to me didn't you?"

Kyle waved a hand dismissively. "You were already fucked R-tard." He ignored Cartman's petulant protests. "Air hockey?"

"Yeah, whatever," Cartman agreed, still huffy from his game loss.

The two headed over to the air hockey table. Since it had been his idea, Kyle paid. While he put the money in, Cartman went back to the alien game and grabbed the soda bottle he'd left there in his tantrum. He took a swig of it before snatching up the air hockey paddle. "Prepare to die ginger dildo."

"Bring it fatass," replied Kyle rolling up his sleeves and grabbing a paddle. When he looked up at Cartman's eyes and where they were staring, he felt the mistake he'd made deep in his stomach. He quickly rolled the sleeves down, feeling the blood in his face move. He wasn't sure if his cheeks were turning red or white, but he could tell the color was changing.

He knew what a big deal it was, but was absolutely shocked when Cartman charged around the side of the hockey table towards him. A rough hand grabbed his upper arm. Cartman looked seriously pissed off as he jerked Kyle's sleeve upwards. Kyle felt afraid. He was afraid of the consequences of his actions being revealed and also of the anger resonating off Cartman. He was a big guy that towered over Kyle's measly 5'3".

"What the fuck is this Kyle?" demanded Cartman. His eyes were forcing contact with Kyle's, only Kyle didn't want to meet his gaze. This unnatural self-violence that had pleased him and given him some sense of pride now shamed him. He stared down at the ugly multi-colored floor. Cartman shook the arm in his grasp. "I said, 'What the fuck is this?'"

Kyle was intimidated, but he didn't have an answer. Wasn't it obvious what they were? Roughly, Cartman grabbed his other arm and rolled up that sleeve. "Jesus Christ," he said examining the depth and severity of the wounds. Some were months old, others still fresh and vulnerable to re-opening.

When Cartman ran a thumb over the particularly deep one on his left wrist, Kyle shivered and bit down on his lip. He closed his eyes feeling a bit of a sting. Oh man, he couldn't cry here at an arcade, especially not in front of Cartman.

He tugged his arm out of Cartman's grasp. Pushing down any tear-related emotions, he looked Cartman straight in the eye and asked, "What do they look like?" with as much chill as he could.

Even with the evilest glare that Kyle could muster, Cartman didn't look away. Maybe he'd seen that look too many times before and built up an immunity, thought it was more likely that Cartman just wasn't the type to be cowed by anyone.

It was Kyle who looked away first, fixing his sleeves and glancing about to see if the incident had been witnessed. No one cared. They were too immersed in various noise for the senses: blinking lights, beeping games, and vibrating controllers or steering wheels.

In a secret place buried down deep Kyle had hoped his mother or father would notice. He'd been hoping that they'd love him enough to see what he'd been doing to himself, to see what they had been doing to him. Instead, it was Cartman, a guy who totally hated that had taken enough interest to see. That hurt, but everything seemed to these days.

"How long?" asked Cartman. His voice then reminded Kyle of his "the Dawg" phase.

Kyle shrugged. He knew that answer wouldn't be enough. Still, Cartman was quiet for a bit. "Since your dad moved?

Holy fucking shit, though Kyle. There was just no way that Cartman would know that. It was too unbelievable that Cartman could pay enough attention to someone else's life to piece that together. As soon as he felt himself nod, Kyle started to tremble a bit from the emotional flood.

His hand was snatched up. Cartman led him through the arcade to the back where the retro games were kept. They formed a U with the opening facing the manager's office. It created an isolated area since the old games weren't very popular. Though Cartman was technically holding his hand, it felt way more like a yank and didn't feel sentimental even to Kyle's infatuated brain.

When they were alone, Cartman faced Kyle towards him. Kyle was still looking down and was surprised for the thousandth time in five minutes when Cartman's pudgy hand took hold of his chin and jerked it up.

Kyle looked up into Cartman's blazing chocolate-colored eyes. He felt a stirring in his heart and stomach and pants. For a split second he had thought that Cartman might kiss him, but he knew seconds later that Cartman was just wanting Kyle to pay attention to his next words.

"Listen Kyle… yes, it sucks that it's just you with your goddamn bitch mom, but this…" he removed the hand from Kyle's chin and instead grabbed Kyle's left wrist. "This stops…now, forever."

A choked noise came out of Kyle. He didn't know why his enemy cared, but someone fucking did and that was enough. Cartman didn't want him to hurt himself. When a tear rolled down from his eye, Kyle used his free hand to wipe it away. "This ends. Do you understand?"

With a sniffle, Kyle nodded. Then, when Cartman didn't look convinced, he said, "I understand."

"Good," said Cartman. He released his physical hold on Kyle. The emotional hold, however, tightened.

It was there among the beeping machines with saline cheeks that Kyle finally accepted his feelings. He didn't like Cartman, but for some inexplicable reason, he loved him. The confusion of the last five or so years died away and the puzzle of his affections solved itself. He didn't have to like Cartman to love him and that was all right.


	2. Chapter 2

Over the next few weeks, Cartman would occasionally grab Kyle and shove up his sleeve to make sure that he was being obeyed. As they scabbed over they must have itched like crazy, because Kyle couldn't seem to refrain from clawing at them. Cartman swore at him when he saw the scratch marks under dried blood and the next day at school, he brought Kyle a generic brand Neosporin. He couldn't understand why the most intelligent boy in class, maybe even the whole school, didn't see how foolish it was to run around with open wounds.

All of the nursing that Cartman did, he did in relative private. He would wait until the others were distracted or not around to check. This was a matter that Kyle didn't need spread around. Cartman knew damn well about embarrassing gossip since his mother was the definitive crack-whore. He had endured more than his share for that. Kyle's parents' divorce had been the talk for a while, but no one spared it a thought anymore, except for Kyle himself who was withering under its repercussions.

Cartman had watched the way Kyle shrank into himself. He figured that Kyle couldn't afford it since he was already a goddamn midget. Making fun of the change, even to himself, didn't make the lump in his throat go away. He couldn't help Kyle and why should he bother? Had anyone offered him any sympathy for being raised by a hermaphroditic prostitute? Why couldn't Kyle just suck it up like he had? Cartman just took the pain deep inside where no one could see it. But Kyle was Kyle and he just had to show the world his feelings. The cuts were just a way for that stupid ginger to say "I learned something today" in a physical way. It was all part of how weak he was.

Even though no one had offered Cartman any support over the years, there was something inside of him that wanted to help Kyle. He could recognize what it was, but that was yet another thing that needed to stay buried. He'd kept his heart under lock and key since third grade, when that awful, soul-wrenching need had hit him for the first time. God, as if his life wasn't bad enough without developing an obsession with a Jewish, red-headed goody-two-shoes. When Cartman had started picking on Kyle more than that asshole Kenny or Stan and Kyle had reciprocated with as much vehemence as he dished out, it had enflamed his fondness. The more that Kyle said that he hated him, the greater Cartman's feelings grew.

It wasn't a normal reaction, but Cartman wasn't a normal teenager and hadn't been a normal kid. He'd identified his feelings well enough in grade school to shut up about them. Now that he was in high school, they were secreted so well inside him, that there were times when Cartman mistook the intensity for hate. In those times, he could say to Kyle that he hated him with an honesty pure enough to pass even the cleverest lie detectors. Of course, lie detectors don't work on sociopaths, a classification that Cartman felt he couldn't really deny, having never felt guilt or remorse.

The dreams that he had of Kyle were a frequent reminder of his true feelings. Cartman cursed the lack of control over his sub-conscious. It was the one time that he couldn't lie to himself. When he was awake it was okay to fantasize dirty things about Kyle because that was about control. It was about him exerting dominance over Kyle's body. Kyle would be naked, his body thin and weak underneath Cartman. He made mewling, begging sounds, earnest to have Cartman inside of him. Cartman was only too happy to give him what he needed, over and over until Kyle would weep tears of sore pleasure. Sometimes he would lick the tears off Kyle's face before releasing his desire into Kyle's tight depths. These fantasies would make Cartman's forehead get dewy and he had a terrible time restraining himself from submitting to self-fulfillment. Cartman refused to be just another teenage boy constantly wanking off to nudie magazines. He took control over his hormones, but those illicit daydreams made for some close calls.

But the dreams that came while he was asleep, those were of a different variety and they scared him. Some were filled with what he thought of when people used the cheesy phrase "making love," but the scarier ones had no sort of sex to them at all. There was still touching, kissing mostly. What was scary was the words that Kyle would say, those three words that everyone says to someone eventually. When his imaginary Kyle would say "I love you," everything in Cartman's world seemed right. Instantly he felt surrounded by a calm that he didn't have anywhere else. Kyle wouldn't care that Cartman couldn't say the words back, because he knew regardless.

Then there were the nightmares involving Kyle. There was a recurring one in which he held Kyle close in the entrance to the school's cafeteria; his lips were pressed tightly against the smaller boy. Everyone could see them, see their love, and see Cartman's total dependence on Kyle. He felt humiliated. Another was Kyle finding out and freaking out. The pure hatred in Kyle's eyes hurt him. He told everyone in school and they all knew what a freak Cartman was.

Cartman had taken to stealing his mother's Xanax before bed to prevent these images. The Xanax put him out and if he had any dreams, he didn't remember them. This was the only way that he even tried to discourage the dreams of Kyle. Cartman still spent every available moment with him. When they were together he verbally jabbed at Kyle until he managed to poke out a reaction. A day that went by without a pissed-off Kyle was a wasted one.

His reaction to Kyle's arm at the arcade had surprised him as much as it had Kyle. One second he'd been miffed about Kyle's stupid big mouth ruining his game and the next it felt like someone had slammed a battering ram into his heart. He'd run over to Kyle like a worried mother or something and he was still embarrassed about that, but he hadn't thought before acting. He'd seen the marks enough times on his mother and seeing them on the only other person that he gave a shit about, other than himself, overwhelmed him. How the fuck could Kyle do that? Wasn't he supposed to be smart? Then why was he doing the same self-destructive shit that his mom was doing? What would come next? Would he try drugs like Leanne was addicted to? He'd wanted to shake Kyle until he woke up from this fucking fog he'd been in since the divorce.

Instead, Cartman had taken control, not unlike his fantasies, really. He'd told Kyle that the cutting was to stop immediately, a command he fully intended to back up with force if he had to. Kyle had agreed to stop, but still Cartman felt the need to check. Every other day or so, Cartman lifted the sleeves of his small friend and inspected. It wasn't like Cartman to be so compassionate, but no one knew how much it hurt him to see Kyle in that state, not even Cartman.

Kyle didn't seem to be able to take care of himself, like letting some of the cuts become infected. Cartman would never have had that problem, but he'd never do the whole self-mutilation thing anyway. Cartman recognized that the cuts might be cries for help, but from the look of some of the scars, Kyle had been doing it for a while. Kyle hadn't been crying out loud enough then, if getting help really was his goal. Cartman didn't know if that was his reason or not, but since Kyle wasn't taking care to let them heal, he suspected that Kyle's motivation might have more to do with just giving up and letting life do what it wanted to him than asking for a solution. Well, Cartman wasn't a quitter and he wasn't going to let Kyle be. So, he checked Kyle's arms and tried not to let the touch thrill his bezoar of love.

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Author's Note: It is so much easier to write from Cartman's point of view for me. Next chapter will have more dialogue and stuff. I just kind of wanted to establish where both the main characters' mindsets are at when we start off. Oh, and a bezoar is like a human drain clog, pretty creepy actually.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's note: Thank you for the reviews! It's nice to have some positive feedback. This story feels really different from my others and I'm not quite sure why. There is so much less dialogue than I'm used to. It's making me nervous that it's dull to read. Anyway, long chapter, but the next one is insanely short, so it balances out.

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Chapter 3

Cartman's checks made Kyle feel cared about, though a bit sheepish that such measures had to be taken. His irrational love for Cartman seemed to have a bit more support, especially when he'd brought Kyle Neosporin for the infected cuts. In that gesture, Kyle had felt a glimmer of justification for his feelings.

Then his mother had done something horrible that ruined any measure of composure that Kyle had begun to form. Sheila invited someone to dinner. This someone was a man that she had, much to his and Ike's surprise, been dating for a while. It was getting serious and she wanted her sons to meet Oliver. Kyle refused. It was too soon for his father to be replaced. Kyle wasn't ready.

He'd run to his room and barricaded the door with his dresser; Sheila wouldn't allow locks on her sons' doors. The heavy lifting increased his already pounding heart rate and adrenaline rushed into his brain. He wanted to break something, wanted to jump out of his window and catch the next train out of South Park. He started shoveling clothes into a dusty old dufflebag. Each handful made him angrier until he just flung the bag with all his force. It slammed into his monitor, pushing it with a thud into the wall. The reverberations knocked off a few knickknacks from the desk.

Kyle sank to his knees. He hated her for moving on and his father for leaving, for not caring about his family. Reaching under his bed for his box of personal treasures, he felt a combination of relief and regret. He hadn't even started to sin yet and he already felt the guilt. Lifting the lid, he nearly smiled at his knife.

The knife had been a bar-mitzvah gift from his dad. There was some irony to that, but it was not intended by Kyle. It was a really cool knife with a vicious, curved blade and a sleek handle with indented grip. He had oohed and aahed over it when the weapon store was still having its grand opening. The shop had gone out of business since then, too much competition from Jimbo's gun shop. Stan, Kenny, and Cartman had been envious when he'd received the knife; it had stood out among the trove of gifts he'd received that day. Of course, Cartman hadn't been invited to Kyle's bar-mitzvah. The opportunity to mess with a room full of Jews was too much temptation for him. Luckily, the security that Kyle's dad had hired had managed to find the bomb in time for the bomb squad to defuse it. That week Kyle had shaved Mr. Kitty for revenge. Cartman was such an idiot that he thought Mr. Kitty had contracted cancer since he was bald and had the cat put to sleep. Kyle still felt terrible guilt over the incident and no doubt Cartman was still pissed about it, since Kyle had confessed his role in the cat's getting euthanized.

Once he had the knife in hand, the outside world faded away, almost as if Kyle had fainted. The loud screaming in his head quieted and he knew that it would stop completely once blood was drawn.

He hesitated while rolling up a sleeve. He thought of Cartman's checks. He would see any new marks. He recalled his promise to Cartman, the self-centered, borderline evil fucktard that Kyle loved. Cartman didn't want him to cut himself.

Kyle glanced at the healing wounds revealed by his partially rolled sleeve. The Neosporin had helped. Suddenly, letting Cartman down, disappointing him seemed worse than having dinner with his mother's new man.

He set the knife back, replaced the box's lid, and slid it beneath his bed again. From where he sat on the floor, he could reach his cell on the nightstand. He grabbed it and dialed.

"Hello?"

"Hi Mrs. Marsh. Is Stan there?"

"Well yes he is! He's just finishing up dinner. Hold on."

"Thanks," said Kyle. He liked Stan's mom. It was Stan's dad who was an annoying idiot. Time after time he'd watched as randy marsh humiliated his son. It wasn't that he was a bad person, he just tended to make really bad choices that made him look like an ass, usually in front of a large group of people.

"Hey dude. What's up?"

"Kyle sighed. "My mom has a new boyfriend." It was weird how succinct his problem was. He didn't need many words with Stan. They'd been best friends forever. He knew Stan better than he knew his own brother and he'd become really close to Ike over the years.

"Oh man, that sucks. Wanna hang out over here tonight?"

It was exactly what he needed. He couldn't hurt himself in front of Stan and therefore he wouldn't be able to let Cartman down. "Hell yes," he said enthusiastically.

"Cool," replied Stan. "Bring your controllers though, Shelley destroyed ours on her last _visit_ home."

Oh yeah, remembered Kyle. Shelley, never a nice person to begin with, had developed the first known case of PMSX. It was a particularly nasty form of PMS in which the afflicted woman mutated into a hideous monster that thirsted for the suffering of all men. She'd also destroyed Randy's motorcycle, popped a woman's breast implants, and burned down a factory that produced pork rinds before she was finally put down with a tranquilizer. They'd hauled her off then for observation where they discovered her disease and were at work on a cure. The university that she was attending let her make up for her missed classes when she got back since she was now considered disabled. Kyle wasn't really sure what they were doing with Shelley during danger week, but he didn't care enough to ask Stan. As long as she was away from South Park, he didn't care.

"Okay, see you in twenty," said Kyle. He hung up the phone and eyed the dresser blockade with annoyance. He decided that it'd be less trouble to just go out the window. After grabbing a warm coat and a poof-ball hat, he did just that.

* * *

The Marsh family didn't stand on formality with Kyle. With a small knock, Kyle opened the front door. He knew that Stan would've unlocked it once he knew that he was on the way. Kyle called out once he was inside and had kicked off his snowy boots. "Stan?"

"Hey," said Stan, suddenly in front of him. Stan smiled. "Was there snow outside?"

Kyle returned the smile. "A balmy 90 degrees," he answered. "Chicks in bikinis, it's totally unreal."

There was always snow just like there was always Stan and Kyle, best friends forever. Kyle soaked up the love in that security. Soon they'd be going off to the state university. After that, Kyle would have to go somewhere a bit fancier for his doctorate, but they still had years ahead of them to hang out. Besides, they'd probably be married before Kyle finished his doctorate and their boys' club would already be broken up. Kenny and Cartman would have to stay in South Park. Cartman would probably attend community, but Kenny wouldn't be able to afford even that, not that he wanted to. Kenny did lament the missed opportunity of joining a fraternity, though they all knew it had more to do with sororities, but overall he was happy working at the Build-a-Bear in the mall. He liked being surrounded by non-lethal plush toys in an air-conditioned environment policed by rent-a-cops.

Kenny's father had pushed one time, saying that the real money was in working on cars. His father had been under a car at that moment. Kenny had looked at the flimsy little jack keeping the dangerously heavy car from crushing his father and balked. "Are you fucking kidding me?" he had answered in horror.

"We have some leftovers, any interest?" asked Stan. Kyle shook his head. His stomach was still kind of squirrely from the fight with his mom. "You need to eat more dude."

Stan was right of course. His erratic eating schedule played hell on his diabetes, but Kyle didn't care that much about food. It tasted good and he needed it to live, but it just didn't rule his life like it seemed to all the people around him, especially Cartman. Whatever. His skinny frame was always hidden by his jacket, so only people that saw him at home ever saw how thin he was. "Do you have any Pixie Sticks?"

Stan eyed him. Sure, give pure sugar to the diabetic kid right? "No, but we have some Doritos." Ha! Showed what Stan knew, those were nearly as bad as the Pixie Sticks.

"Sure, whatever."

They got all set up around the game console with their drinks and munchies and proceeded to play. They didn't talk much for a while. Stan was a firm believer in the heterosexual rules of having male friends, so they couldn't appear to have only gotten together to talk about Kyle's problems. There was this video game pretext and only once that was sufficiently established could they have any bonding moments. Kyle was pretty sure that Stan didn't even know this about himself.

Kyle's cell rang. It was his mom. After he paused their game, he answered, "Hello?"

Stan looked over at his friend. Kyle nodded to him, so that he would know that it was indeed his mother.

"We still need to talk about this young man. I want you to come out of your room," she commanded.

"I'm not in my room; I'm at Stan's. I'm going to spend the night." They hadn't discussed it, but Kyle knew that Stan wouldn't have a problem with it. Stan would just lay down his sleeping bag just like any other time that they had a spontaneous sleepover.

Sheila inhaled sharply as if about to launch into a tirade, but then she was quiet, as if thinking. Finally, she snapped, "You do that Kyle. We don't need you around the house throwing things around. You stay with your little friend and then tomorrow, after school, we are talking about this."

It sounded like a fair trade, more than he usually got from his mother. Maybe she understood a bit why he had acted the way that he had. "All right," he agreed.

"Good. I love you Bubbe."

He was surprised by how considerate she was being, but pleased by it. "You too mom, bye." He pressed the off button and looked at Stan in surprise. "She didn't yell."

"Huh," said Stan with a shrug, un-pausing the game. "There's six zombies in the room up ahead on the left."

Kyle took his controller back in hand. "I know." This was an older game, chosen either consciously or sub-consciously by Stan because it wouldn't take much of their concentration; they'd be able to talk without losing the game. Kyle had the game memorized just as much as Stan did. "Don't forget about the one that comes in once we go inside. That makes seven."

"Ya," said Stan. They entered the room with bullets ejaculating and axes swinging. The zombies didn't stand a chance. "Don't let that female one grab you."

"I know," Kyle snipped in annoyance.

"You know, my mom got a new boyfriend like, the next day after my parents got divorced." Stan's fingers never hesitated on the buttons. "Roy was such a dick, always wanting me to chop wood."

"Oh yeah, I remember that. Didn't that guy die in your tree?"

"Yeah dude, he still haunts it. It's totally lame though, not scary. He just appears and kinda waves his arms around and makes some retarded noises. I never hang out there anymore because of that douche."

Now that Stan mentioned it, Kyle did seem to recall seeing a transparent figure doing a half-hearted ghost impression in the Marsh's backyard. "Bummer."

"Yeah, but maybe this guy will die too," Stan said hopefully. "'Cept maybe he won't end up trapped in your backyard for all eternity."

"That'd suck. Well, I haven't met him yet. Mom wants to bring him to dinner." It clicked with him a bit that his mom was just bringing him to meet the family and not moving straight in as Stan's stepfather had. That was something good at least. Maybe this Oliver guy wouldn't end up marrying his mom and he wouldn't even have to worry about a stepfather for a while. "She said that it's serious."

"Lame. That's just what adults say when they're… nevermind."

"What?" asked Kyle, afraid that he knew what Stan was suggesting.

"Uh nothing dude, forget it."

Kyle thought about what Stan was implying. For a split second an image of his mom in bed with another man flashed through his mind and he felt nauseous. "Ugh," he said. "I feel sick."

"You should probably take a break anyway. It's been like, an hour." Stan was always very considerate of Kyle's epilepsy. He had freaked out the two times that he'd seen Kyle's seizures and he was reluctant to ever see one again.

Kyle hit the pause button. "I'm going to the bathroom."

"'Kay," acknowledged Stan. He lay back on his couch with a Game Informer magazine.

Just the walk to the bathroom helped to relieve some of the nausea. He closed the door behind him. The downstairs bathroom was for guests and was a lot nicer than the one that Stan used. There were packets of potpourri in little containers on a shelf behind the toilet. The toilet itself had this weird fuzzy padding on the lid. As if anyone was planning on sitting on the toilet with the seat down. Kyle lifted the fuzzy seat cover and relieved himself. Afterwards, he washed his hands in the sink thoroughly. His reflection looked a bit like the kind of ghost that Roy's spirit wanted to be. His eyes looked grey and the whites had more red lines than normal. He had kept his jacket on since being over, but he checked his arms, wanting to see the healing progress. It was kind of impressive how the body recovered itself, especially once he'd actually started to care for them.

He had done well tonight in keeping his promise to Cartman. He'd gotten out and sought a friend's shoulder. That was the healthy way to deal with stress. But the face in the mirror didn't look as though everything was all better. The face still looked as it had the past few months, like it had once belonged to Kyle Broflovski. He reached out to the glass and put his fingertips against the side of a pale cheek. Was that really him now? What was life doing to him? Once he took his fingers off the mirror, the heated rings that had formed began to fade away, as if he had never touched it. It was like his life, no matter what he didn't, he just didn't seem to be able to affect it. The universe took its shaped and Kyle felt like a clay mold forming however it wanted him to be.

He would meet his mom's boyfriend over dinner, because that was what life wanted him to do. He would try and accept this new person and hope that Oliver was a good person. He would follow the steps that were laid out before him, since fighting never changed a goddamn thing. Kyle was powerless and miserable. He fixed his jacket and returned to his friend, putting on a stiff upper lip, as expected.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Liane was asleep in the bathtub again. As a child Cartman used to fret nervously around here hoping to God that she would wake up. Now he was large enough that he could just pick her up and carry her to her room. She would crash after her highs and become so depressed that she was borderline suicidal. Luckily, the crash would also make her incredibly sleepy, so she never had time to act on any rash impulses. She went to the bathtub in these times because it was comforting to her, safely womb-like.

Cartman struggled to get a good grip on her. The raised sides made scooping a bit easier, but he could still feel that he'd snagged some of her thigh too hard. She moaned a bit, but didn't wake up. He held her in his arms. She felt so light and breakable. It was times like this that reminded him of just how mortal his mother was. It scared him. He wanted to keep her safe forever. She was all that he had and he was endlessly forgiving her for being a bad mother, because she was the only person that he openly loved. No matter if she shot up heroine in their living room while entertaining three or four male callers. No matter that the party would then continue in her room where he had to hear their wild banging. He couldn't lash out against her. He'd tried in the past, tried to kill her even when she'd dared to bring in that fool Cesar Milan to control him. He hadn't been able to do it. He couldn't harm her because he loved her.

She was beginning to grow heavy in his arms since he had been distracted with thinking of older, depressing times. He continued hauling her to her room. Her bed was made; a habit of hers picked up from years as a prostitute. He rested her on her pink comforter. He set her down as gently as he could and then pulled the other half of the comforter over her. She was like a mom burrito. He wanted to tuck it tighter around her, restrain her from continually doing this to herself. Before leaving the room, he pecked her on the forehead. She felt warm. He reached down and took her pulse. It was racing. Crap.

He rushed to his room and dug through drawers of crap finally producing his Willikins' bear watch. Once he had that in hand, he raced back to his mom. With two fingers on her neck and an eye on the watch, he began to count. He counted 12 beats in 10 seconds. It wasn't the fastest he had heard it, but it was pretty fucking high for a sleeping person. Instead of panicking, Cartman attempted to detach himself. He left the room, leaving the watch behind, and closed the door softly behind him. She'd be all right. She always was.

He tried to distract himself on his computer, but he just ended up going to medical sites about the effects of cocaine overdosing. He found a useful chart about cocaine's effects on heart rates. He printed this up. His mother's pulse had ranged between medium and moderate tachycardia. Only when it was severe would he call an ambulance. He didn't want to have paramedics here for just another false alarm. Granted, it had been years since he'd called them, before he'd gotten used to these sorts of incidents. It was best to wait and see. If her heart rate didn't go down soon, then he'd call someone. He set a timer on the bear watch for an hour. He wouldn't check on her until then.

While he waited, Cartman watched a horror movie and laughed as all the stupid blonde girls and jock boys got hacked into little pieces. Anyone that knew him would have just thought he was being the sick bastard that he was. Kyle would have noticed that the laugh sounded hollow, would've recognized it as show.

Liane's pulse did go down in the hour that Cartman had timed and by morning she was in the kitchen cooking as usual. She whistled a tune while frying up his eggs, pancakes, ham, and bacon. It smelled good and he needed the energy. He hadn't slept well last night and hadn't dared to take any Xanax for fear that his mother might need him.

"Morning my snooky-bear!" she greeted as he walked in. She was smiling and wearing a plush bathrobe. Her hair was pulled up into a loose bun. She would have looked beautiful if she wasn't so thin and worn.

"Hey mom. What's for breakfast?" He peered over her shoulder at the frying pan before her. "'Bout time. I was getting' hungry."

"It's almost ready." She turned around and stood on tip-toe to give his cheek a kiss. "You can wait in your room Baby; I'll bring it to you."

"Thanks mom!" he said happily, returning to his room. 'See Kyle?' he thought to himself. How hard was it to just push down the pain?


	5. Chapter 5

Cartman didn't bother to lock his car door. It was a piece of shit that didn't even have a working tape deck. It had been a gift from his mom when he turned sixteen and while he'd felt that he totally deserved a car, he didn't like thinking about how she'd come by the money for it. Whatever though, it was wheels and in a hick town like South Park, driving was a definite necessity. Stan's car was a lot nicer, but he wasn't up to actually getting out with it very often. With a family like Stan's, Cartman sure as hell would want to get out of town every chance he fucking got, but Stan just wasn't the restless kind.

The car, a Daewoo, was way too small for Cartman and it was a puke green color. It overheated when it had to wait at too many stoplights, which shouldn't have been an issue in a climate as cold as theirs. There was a bullet hole in the front window on the passenger's side. His side view mirror dangled freely; he could fiddle with it and make it actually look attached, but once the wind hit it, it'd just come free again.

He grabbed his backpack from the passenger seat and slammed the door behind him. As he did, the bouncy mirror thwacked against the dent that it tended to nest in when not in motion. Cartman walked across the parking lot towards school. He saw Stan's car. So, he and Kyle would already be there. Kenny trusted neither Stan's two-door sports car nor Stan's novice driving skills, so he still rode the bus.

Walking into the building, he saw groups of people in all kinds of various conversations. There was more energy than usual. It was possible to smell Christmas break in the air. Tomorrow, two blissful weeks to sleep, eat, and play video games would begin. Other students may have had more aspirations than that, but Cartman was content with his goals.

Stan was talking to Kyle who was pulling his big ass science book out of his locker. Cartman came up behind them with ears perked.

"He is afraid of forks," said Kyle.

"Who's afraid of forks?" asked Cartman. "I hear Craig shits himself when he sees guinea pigs. Is it Tweak? That cocksucker is afraid of everything. He's probably afraid of air."

Kyle and Stan looked at him blankly. Okay, perhaps he shouldn't have had that second cup of coffee this morning. He didn't want to start being compared to that jittering idiot. Finally, Kyle explained. "My mom's new boyfriend."

Oh, that wasn't good. Cartman studied the blasé way that Kyle said it, the vacancy in his eyes. There was a little danger alarm that was ringing in his head. He had seen some changes in Kyle the past two weeks since he'd stopped cutting himself. He'd watched as after the divorce, Kyle's personality had dulled. Cartman had had to tease with insults twice as sharp just to get Kyle to respond. Then, after they'd talked at the arcade and he'd put an end to the destructive behavior, Kyle had begun to perk up again. He'd actually seemed to start caring a bit more about the world around him, though not as much as when he'd been safe and sound in a two parent household. Maybe Cartman was just being paranoid, but Kyle seemed worse this morning, more like he had right before he'd discovered Kyle's secret.

"New boyfriend?" asked Cartman as if not following the conversation.

Kyle shrugged. "Yeah, Oliver."

"And Oliver is afraid of cutlery?"

Kyle closed up his locker, not even responding to Cartman's question. He didn't seem to be angry though, just going through the motions of the morning.

"So, how'd you eat dinner then?" asked Stan. "Hey Kenny."

Kenny stood next to Cartman. He gave a quick wave to his posse. Cartman took a smell around him and then stepped away from Kenny as if he reeked. This brought him a bit closer to Kyle and his locker. "Ugh. Poor stench."

Cartman smiled at Kenny's down-turned eyebrows. About the only facial expression that Kenny could manage with that retarded orange parka was a glare. He didn't like picking on Kenny as much as he did Kyle, but it still pleased him.

"Morning kids, ready for winter break?" asked Mrs. Turnstill, the school's English teacher. She unlocked the classroom nearest them.

They murmured a collective "uh-huh" to get her to go away. Kyle didn't make eye contact with her, which Cartman found strange since he knew that Kyle liked Mrs. Turnstill. Even though he'd never made it to any of the advanced classes, Cartman was observant and had seen when Kyle lit up while talking about some praise or comment that Mrs. Turnstill had given. He kind of figured that Kyle was probably teacher's pet in all his classes.

As if noticing Kyle's lack of response, she prodded a bit. "I'm looking forward to hearing what your thoughts on Goethe's Faust are today Kyle."

Kyle immediately looked surprised and bit his lip. He hadn't done his homework. That was written all over his face. Cartman frowned. The goody two-shoes hadn't done his homework because he was thinking about his mother's new retarded-ass phobia boyfriend. "Uh, yeah," Kyle said and then smiled a half-smile.

The bell rang then. There was shuffling about them now and the teacher went into her classroom after propping open the door with a little rubber triangle. Kenny kept his eyes locked on the door-stopper. He'd been killed by one and now he didn't trust the little bastards. The boys said their goodbyes and went to their various classes. Cartman would just have to wait before checking that stupid ginger's arms again. He was fairly certain this time though, he'd actually find something.

* * *

Cartman felt stupid as crap when he actually had to pass a note to Kyle in class. Part of his brain acknowledged that he was passing a note to his crush and even though it wasn't the dominant part of his brain, it still led him to blush as he did it. He whispered to Kyle, "Jew. Psssst, Jew…"

When Kyle had glanced his way, he'd flashed him the little folded up note. It took Kyle a moment, but then he did reach out his hand after a quick peek to make sure the teacher wasn't looking. Cartman didn't wait for Kyle to read the note before raising his hand and asking the teacher for the bathroom pass. He took the obnoxious neon sign that held a teeny key clipped to the end of it and dashed out of the room. His heart was beating quickly. Now why had that felt so clandestine? Cartman berated himself silently for acting so girlish.

While walking down the hallway, he glanced into the window in each classroom's door, if the door was closed at all that is. He saw all the same people that he'd seen every damn day of his life since kindergarten. Not that they didn't have new students, but Cartman never really focused on them. He was much happier stewing over the lack of scenery than to try and take an optimistic approach that the town really was expanding.

Cartman entered the boy's bathroom. It was empty of human life, though there had been a skittering noise as he'd come in. This place was totally disgusting. He headed into a stall; he might as well take the time to have a bowel movement while waiting for that lame-brain Kyle to figure out how to get out of class. He read the various graffiti as he sat on the toilet. There was one particularly funny one that read, "There's no glory in a glory hole." Beneath the words was a drawn hole that others had put penises around.

He knew damn well who had scrawled S+W in a heart. Stan and Wendy hadn't been together since freshman year, so it was faded, but still legible. There was a suck added to it. Had he done that? It looked like his hand writing, but he didn't remember doing it. There was "Once you go Token, you never go back." Cartman had a vague suspicion that it hadn't even been Token that had written that.

Cartman ignored the "For a good time, call Cartman's mom." He didn't have a marker on him right now, but he'd come back and blot it out later. It wasn't the first time he'd seen it and since he still had seven fucking months of high school left, it wouldn't be the last.

He finished up in the stall, wiping and getting his jeans back in place. He ran the water under the faucet for a bit until it was warm. What the hell was taking Kyle so long? Maybe he wouldn't come because he'd know this time that he was busted. He dried his hands and then practiced shooting rolled up paper into the trash. Just as Cartman was actually starting to believe that Kyle wouldn't show up, he did.

Kyle looked angry, which was a surprisingly good sign to Cartman. "What do you want? Do you know that I had to pretend to be sick to get out of there? He wanted me to wait for you to get back, you reject." Kyle set his backpack down on the tiled floor near the wastebasket. He crossed his arms and glared.

Cartman gestured with one finger for Kyle to come to him. The fire in Kyle's eyes immediately went out. He stepped towards Cartman with the same unconcerned attitude he had affected earlier. Without having to be asked, he rolled up his sleeves and offered them for Cartman's inspection. It made Cartman angry to see Kyle so submissive. He didn't want Kyle to not care about this. He wanted Kyle to show the passion for things that he always did. Was he ever going to get old Kyle back?

He snatched Kyle's arms with his hands. It made Kyle jump a bit, but he didn't move as Cartman looked over the scarred flesh. There were no new marks. How could he have been wrong? He had been so certain! Cartman stubbornly pulled Kyle even closer to him and scrutinized his right arm as if checking a diamond for flaws.

In doing this, Cartman had pulled Kyle's body against him. While he had Kyle's right arm across his left with the wrist near his nose, Kyle's torso, both lower and upper were flush against him. Kyle reached out with his free hand and grabbed Cartman's shoulder as balance. He didn't resist as Cartman looked.

Cartman had only been this close to Kyle when they were physically fighting. Well, that wasn't true. Once there had been this camping trip they'd taken. Six of them had spent three days in the mountains by themselves. There was Stan, Kenny, Clyde, Token, and of course, he and Kyle. It had been an awesome trip. They'd done all the traditional camping things like telling scary stories, roasting marshmallows, and hiking. The second night Cartman had found a cave nearby the campsite. Now, ever since the incident with the Cave of the winds collapsing, Cartman hadn't been very fond of caves, but this one was really cool.

It was really really small, big enough only for one person to fit comfortably. Inside though, there was a small crevice that if you looked through, you could see a glow. He'd been so delighted with his discovery that he'd hurried back to camp to tell the others. Kyle had been the only one around, but at least it was someone. Kyle had made Cartman swear that he wasn't leading him into a trap before following. Once there, Cartman had first had to go in and prove that it was safe since Kyle was such a major pussy. Finally, Kyle had gone in and looked through the crevice to see the glowing rocks. Cartman had come in behind him to look too. They'd been pressed tighter than they were now. For some reason, Kyle didn't say anything at first, probably impressed by Cartman's find. They had stood there with Cartman's front against Kyle's back and the only sounds in the air that of their breathing. Kyle's hat had tickled Cartman's lips, but he hadn't turned away. For some reason the scent of fabric softener emanating from Kyle's hat had smelled better than anything else he'd ever smelled.

It was one of the memories that Cartman thought of when he had those forbidden thoughts of Kyle. The situation would be tweaked a bit, so that Cartman had actually thought of doing something to Kyle instead of just smelling his goddamn hat.

Now they were nearly as close as they'd been during that camping trip, only they were face to face, or would have been if Kyle wasn't so short. Cartman felt his cheeks blush, so he kept his eyes on the wrist in front of him. There were still no new marks and as much as he hated being wrong, this time he obviously was. Still, he didn't want to let go. Kyle's warmth was so much like how Cartman imagined it to be. He risked blushing more by looking at Kyle's face. Kyle wasn't looking at him. Kyle's eyes were on the floor, his face looked ashamed.

Cartman promptly dropped Kyle's arm and stepped back. The hand that had been on his shoulder fell away. "Well, looks like you passed another inspection Kyle, but don't think I won't notice if you start back up again. You can't just hide shit like that from people. The truth always comes out."

He had just been trying to disentangle himself from the spectacle he'd made of himself, but still Cartman's words seemed to affect Kyle. Kyle's body tightened. He rolled down the sleeves of his coat and then wrapped them about himself. His head stayed down even as he whispered to Cartman, "Fuck the truth."

Kyle was suddenly in motion, grabbing his backpack, and flinging the bathroom door open. Cartman watched him leave with surprise. Kyle's actions had always been so predictable to Cartman, but nowadays, he just had no idea what was going on in that red head. It was time to get back to class, Cartman had a lot of thinking to do.


	6. Chapter 6

Authors note: Since Hanukkah moves around, I decided to make it late in the year so that it would fit into the story. After consulting wiki, the only upcoming year that would have the holiday that late is like, 2016. Whatever. I am the author and that makes me omnipotent. Hanukkah of whatever year this story takes place occurs on the 25th of December. *evil laughter*

Oh, also: The next chapter will be the final chapter of He Noticed. It will be up tomorrow (May 12th). I'm already planning the next in the series though. :)

* * *

Kyle went twelve days before breaking his promise to Cartman. He tried to think of it as bending his promise, but he didn't suffer from the moral subjectivity that Cartman was known for. He couldn't delude himself by a technicality. He was still cutting himself, just not on the arms and wrists. He was disregarding the essence of his given promise.

Somehow Cartman had known. What was it that he had picked up on? If it had been something overt, why hadn't Stan or Kenny noticed and if it wasn't something obvious, why had Cartman?

Kyle was ruminating in the nurse's office. He'd been forced by Cartman's stupid insistence on meeting to feign an illness during class. He complained to the nurse about the vague symptoms of nausea and a headache. As Kyle was sitting there with the mercury-free thermometer in his mouth, he'd cursed Cartman's prying. Of course, he'd had no fever. The nurse had offered him a Tylenol and told him to rest for a bit until it took effect. So, he sat and thought about Cartman's inspection.

He'd offered up his arm without argument, knowing that he was safe from being busted, but unlike all the times before, Cartman had really expected to see new cuts. It hadn't been another perfunctory check; Cartman had known.

Kyle had been totally caught off guard when Cartman had yanked on him like that. Hell, he'd pretty much crashed into the lardass. Cartman had been so intent on finding fresh wounds that Kyle was sure he hadn't noticed what an intimate position they'd been in. Kyle had noticed. He'd caught his breath when landing on Cartman's solid build. Kyle's wrist had looked like a small child's in his grip and he felt uncomfortably dominated. Even with how well he knew Cartman, he still felt scared then. He hated when his weakness was made evident, which is why when Cartman had spouted his threat, Kyle had angrily stormed off.

He was 5'3", epileptic, diabetic, and self-mutilating himself because of his inability to cope with his own life. He didn't need anyone around him pointing out how weak he was; he already fucking knew it.

When the bell rang for the next period, Kyle was relieved to get out of the nurse's office. He wanted to be busy again, away from his dreary thoughts.

* * *

Stan waited impatiently as Kyle loaded his textbooks into his backpack. Kyle's science textbook was a massively heavy tome that blended a little of all the sciences. Kyle was taking Integrated Sciences 2 now, though he'd had more problems with the first one than he'd been comfortable with. He couldn't take the grade risk of not studying, so Kyle bought another copy of the textbook for home so that he wouldn't have to lug it to and fro every day. His school copy was a lot less dog-eared. Without that book to take, he could fit all his other books in his backpack, though not easily.

"Are you really gonna use all of those over Christmas break?" Stan complained, his voice drew out the word "all."

"Maybe," replied Kyle. There was the chance that he would throw himself into his studies in preparation for college to alter his focus to tasks that were productive rather than destructive. It was also just as likely that he'd ignore the books completely and spend his whole winter playing with his Hanukkah gifts, hanging out with friends, and leveling up RPG characters. Usually he did some combination of the two, but he had been leaning more to extremes lately.

He zipped his backpack. "All set," he said.

Stan grinned widely and Kyle couldn't resist returning the smile. He liked his best friend. Stan was one of those rare people that could be called kind-hearted. He had managed to keep his optimism despite years of freakish events in South Park that should've jaded him forever. Kyle considered himself a realist, which was another way of saying pessimist. Either way, he and Stan had always been in tune. Neither took a back seat to the other and throughout all the years, Kyle could not have named one major problem in their friendship.

Once they were in the parking lot, Stan outside his driver's side door and Kyle on the passenger side, asked, "So, what do you want to do?"

The parking lot was mostly vacated. There were a few stray groups of excited teenagers making plans, who should drive whom and where they should go. Even in his current state of depression, Kyle couldn't resist being pulled into the excitement. Two weeks of what could be viewed as freedom were being offered up to him. It'd be foolish to squander it.

"Laser tag?" he asked.

Stan was a bit surprised that Kyle had suggested something. Kyle realized then what a bummer he must be to Stan, always moping about his problems. He never meant to be a buzz-kill and he saw how selfish he'd been lately. Stan unlocked his door manually since his car didn't have automatic locks. "Hell yeah," he said happily before ducking inside his car.

Kyle waited for the click of Stan unlocking his door before he pulled up the handle. Getting into Stan's car that day felt like the best decision he'd made in a long time.

* * *

He had been right. They played as they had as children, ducking behind geometric shapes, rolling like acrobats, and cursing when they got hit. Stan was a better shot, but Kyle was stealthier. He'd have made a kick ass ninja; he even relayed that to Stan who agreed. Each laser session lasted only 15 minutes, so they played more than once. Twice they played on the same team, beating the pants off the ten or so little kids that served as their opponents. Was it fair to pick on the brats like that? Hell yes! When Kyle and Stan had been kids at the laser tag center they'd taken much abuse from the high-schoolers and it was only fair that they'd have their chance to do the same. They were the oldest people there though, since laser tag was considered a kid's game. When everyone reached high school, paintball was the appropriate shooting game for their age. It was comforting to Kyle to return to laser tag. He was so much better at it now that his body did what he told it to. Gone was the awkwardness of his playing.

After their third round, when Kyle totally shot Stan in the first two minutes, they grabbed some food from the half-hearted diner in the laser tag center. Stan got hot dogs and loaded them with all sorts of condiments in order to drown out the taste of oblong-shaped meat that had been rotating all day on a greasy metal rack. Kyle got a huge pizza slice that had partially hardened cheese sitting atop a sea of tomato sauce. He followed Stan's lead and got a huge soda too, though he opted for diet. They sat on the hard plastic bench and scarfed.

"That was way fun," said Kyle enthusiastically. He couldn't remember the last time he'd cut loose like that.

Stan nodded. "Yeah, it is so much better now that we're older. Did you see that one little girl that I zapped who went crying to the ref to unfreeze her?"

They both laughed. It wasn't funny when it had happened to them, but it was damn cool doing it to others.

Even here in the eating area, they were the oldest people other than the employees or parents. Kyle watched as a little boy with flushed red cheeks ran to his father and asked for more quarters for the video game machines by the restrooms. He felt a paper-cut of pain as the dad smiled and fished around for some quarters in his pocket. Kyle was assuming that the dad wasn't a step-dad, but what did he know? Divorce was so prevalent that just because the guy was acting like the little boy's father, it didn't mean that's how it really was. Still, when the little boy hugged his dad's lower torso in thanks and zipped off, Kyle wished that he could be that kid.

"So, what do you think your big Hanukkah gift is gonna be this year?" asked Stan. He had seen what Kyle was watching and how he was reacting and was attempting to subvert his attention.

Kyle frowned. He wasn't sure. He knew that a car was out of the picture. "I don't know."

"I already picked yours up!" exclaimed Stan. This made Kyle smile. Stan was so good at making him feel better. Then, he felt a bit of guilt since he hadn't bought Stan's Christmas gift yet. Damn, he'd been distracted lately. "You're gonna have to wait for it though."

"I'm gonna need it after spending two weeks at home with my mom and… Oliver." Kyle had almost referred to Oliver as his mom's boyfriend, but it made it less official if he just called him by name.

By mentioning Oliver, he had tacitly given Stan permission to ask about it. Maybe he was a glutton for punishment to even be bringing it up again, but he kind of wanted the opportunity to gripe more. Stan followed the cue. "Oh yeah, so how did you eat dinner without forks?"

Kyle rolled his eyes. "Chopsticks. Dude, I'm not kidding."

Stan laughed. "What a freakin' nerdo. How was he other than that?"

Oliver had been okay. He'd had a full beard and big bushy eyebrows. It was like someone had pasted a rug to various parts of his face. He was a nice, but meek man. He'd been polite, shaking Kyle's hand as they met and pulling his mom's chair from the dinner table for her. He'd lacked a great deal of personality, but was overall inoffensive.

The thing that had pushed Kyle over the edge was Oliver's obvious love for Sheila Broflovski. He couldn't take his eyes from her and he'd smile or laugh at anything that she said. It was nauseating to Kyle to watch some man that wasn't his father falling all over his mother. If his mom's interest matched Oliver's at all, Kyle would definitely have a new step-father. He couldn't get a good gauge on his mother's intentions until he heard them kissing in the kitchen under the pretense of washing up the dishes.

Ike had managed to weasel out of the dinner by pretending that he had to console a friend whose grandma had passed away. Right. Kyle wanted to see this dead grandma as proof, which was a weird thing to think, but he wasn't in his normal state of mind at the time. Kyle had wanted to sink into the dining room chair when he'd heard the lip-smacking sounds. Instead, he'd gone upstairs and broke his promise to Cartman.

He'd shut the door behind him softly, not wanting to alert his mom to the fact that he'd left the table. His bed was perpendicular to the door, leaving one side of the bed blocked from the door's line of sight. He sat Indian-style on that side, digging beneath his bed for the box. His head was chattering too much again. He brought the box onto his lap and lifted the lid carefully. As usual, just seeing the blade quieted his thoughts. All the accusations of weakness and predictions of worst case scenarios changed from yells to whispers.

He rolled up the jeans covering his left leg. His leg was white from months of sunless weather. Kyle considered using his ankle, but scratched that idea quickly. If his pant legs rode up, then Cartman might notice. Instead, he'd use a place that Cartman would never see.

Kyle stood up and removed his pants, all the while keeping an eye on his bedroom door. He didn't want to use the bathroom just because it had a lock. It mightn't matter anyway. Sheila might just like the time alone with Oliver.

Kyle returned to a sitting position on the floor, now feeling strangely comfortable in just his underwear. There was an overwhelming sense of control that came from cutting himself. He was taking charge of the situation, or at least it felt that way while he was doing it. Afterwards, he felt the opposite.

The knife was light, meant more for decoration that use. Kyle focused on a spot on his thigh and held the blade next to the skin there. The voices were so quiet now. His mind was at peace. The initial first cut was a sharp awakening. This location hurt a fuck of a lot more than his arm. His heart beat faster and he flinched, but made no noise. Time slowed. Steadying his hand, he placed another parallel line next to the first. Now he was hitting his groove, could anticipate what the pain would feel like. There was something delicious about actually knowing what the next pain would feel like and knowing that he would be the one to inflict it, the false power sensation.

The blood beaded on the cuts that were more shallow and pooled on the deeper ones. He cut eight parallel lines, one for each hour of sleep. The number varied, but his mind always gave it a context. By the fourth, he was sweating. He knew it was his fight or flight kicking in. He ignored his sympathetic nervous system and kept slicing. Once he finished the eighth, he used a paper towel roll that he kept in the box to wipe the blade clean. He would wash it better later, maybe. For now though, he just sat there, the blood drying in some places or scurrying to the floor in others. His mind was silent, the room was silent, and Kyle felt zen-like.

Kyle had let the afterglow occupy his mind for quite a while, until he began to worry again about his mother coming into his room. He wiped at his wounds with the paper towel and pulled his pants back on. His mother didn't come to check on him until Oliver left and she was heading to bed.

When she did come, she wanted to know what her son had thought of Oliver. Kyle's answers were non-committal. He didn't really care much then. He didn't care about her or Oliver or his absent father. He had marked himself again and was still riding high from the escape it permitted him. He was in a zone of safety where she couldn't hurt him, because he'd already done the damage for her.

Kyle, in the laser tag arena, remembered the whole thing. All of that had happened last freakin' night. It was unbelievable because it felt so far away. This morning he had felt the combination of pride in his wounds and embarrassment at how much he needed them. Luckily for him, he'd thought to bandage them this morning. He was pretty sure all that running around in laser tag had opened some of them. He'd felt their sting while playing, even if he hadn't given it much thought. It'd be lame to be running around laser tag with a bloody thigh, like a girl who'd been surprised by her period.

He'd forgotten what Stan had said. "What?" he asked.

Stan repeated himself, "I asked how he was other than the fork thing."

Kyle shrugged. "Okay." He didn't want to think about it anymore, didn't even want to rant. "Would you be up for dropping me at home?"

Stan didn't like that his friend had switched moods so quickly, but he nodded. "Sure dude."

The ride went well enough. They chatted about things that they planned to do during winter break. Stan wanted to meet with some girl online that he'd been chatting with for ages. Kyle had shared a chatroom with them once and she'd seemed nice enough. He hoped that they hit it off.

When they arrived at Kyle's house, they were both surprised to see Cartman's car out front. Stan looked at Kyle with a raised eyebrow. Kyle had no clue why Cartman was there. When they got out of the car, Cartman did as well.

Cartman's big body unfolded from his Daewoo, a sight that always made Kyle think of clowns getting out of a car. His big red jacket added to his bulk. Kyle had seen Cartman in just a t-shirt and he knew that Cartman had lost some weight over the years. Most people only saw him in his winter garb, so they didn't even notice. Even with some lost weight, Cartman was still kind of a wall of dude.

"What are you doing here?" asked Stan as they approached Cartman.

Cartman smiled at Stan. "Here for my nightly blowjob. Don't tell me I have to wait in line again." He then glared at Kyle. Kyle frowned in annoyance. "You need to learn how to answer your goddamn cell phone."

Kyle had turned off the ringer before entering the laser tag battle room. Still he wondered why Cartman had called. The only time Cartman ever called was to arrange a group get-together or to call him a random derogatory term and hang up. He didn't just show up though. "I know how to answer my phone," said Kyle petulantly. "What do you want?"

"I want to speak to you alone Kyle." The tone of voice that he used brought flashbacks of times long past. It was his manipulating voice, the one that had been used when Cartman had pretended to be okay with not being able to go to Casa Bonita even while having Butters locked up in a bomb shelter. It was the same tone when he'd been so sure that Kyle would suck his balls after the court had ruled in Cartman's favor. Kyle fucking hated that sound. Most of him did anyway. There was the teensiest part of him that liked it and maybe that was part of the reason why he told Stan that he'd see him tomorrow.

"Thanks for the ride," Kyle added.

Stan looked between his two friends. He knew Cartman well enough to know when he was trying to do something shitty to Kyle. "You sure?"

Kyle nodded. "Yup."

Stan got back into his car. Kyle and Cartman watched as he drove away. They looked at each other. Could Cartman be here for another inspection? Kyle fished out his house key from his front pocket.

"Nope, we're going to my house." He pronounced it "mah house." Cartman pulled open the car door behind the driver's side. Then, he pointed inside the car indicating that Kyle should climb in. The passenger door had been so dented in a previous owner's accident that it wouldn't open, so anyone riding with Cartman had to ride in the back like a criminal.

Kyle had no reason to trust Cartman. Their history together had only proven his untrustworthiness. The thing was, Kyle didn't care much anymore. Whatever Cartman had in mind, he'd end up doing anyway. It was always much easier to just say yes to Cartman once he had it in his head that he wanted something done. Now, it wasn't always the case that he got what he wanted, but life would be annoying until either he did get it or lost interest.

Kyle got into the backseat and crossed his arms angrily over his chest. Cartman smiled sweetly down at him as he closed the door. Kyle tried to shake off the sitting duck feeling he had as Cartman drove him off into the night.


	7. Chapter 7

Author's Note: LOOOooong chapter. It took me an extra day to finish. Still, I'm happy with how it turned out.

* * *

Cartman unlocked his front door. He heard Mr. Kitty meowing, eager to be let outside. The instant that the door was open, the cat zoomed out into nature. "Hi to you too, butthole," muttered Cartman. Not that he could really blame the cat; if he was locked up inside all day, he'd probably get antsy too.

"Mom, I'm home!"

He let Kyle walk in before shutting the door. Kyle stood awkwardly in his living room. Cartman's mom entered the room with a wide smile on her face. "Welcome home poopy-kins! Oh, I mean Eric." He'd bitched to his mom several times about how embarrassing all her little nicknames were now that he was nearly an adult. It wasn't as bad when it was just the two of them, but his friends didn't need any more ammunition than they already had on him. "And hello Kyle. Would you boys like some snacks?"

She'd fixed him BLTs and crinkly French fries when he'd come home from school. He'd eaten before calling Kyle who was incompetent and couldn't answer a phone. After like, an hour of trying to get a hold of him by phone, Cartman had been forced to drive over. He'd felt massively uncomfortable ringing Kyle's doorbell. He really didn't want to talk to Mrs. Broflovski, but amazingly, she hadn't been home either. Good, he had better things to do than to get the stink-eye from that bitch. She had always hated him, even in kindergarten before he'd ever done anything bad to her son. It was like he'd wronged her in a former life or something. "Yeah, get us some Little Debbie's and milk."

"I can't have Little Debbie's Cartman," reminded Kyle. Kyle had always been amazed by Liane's pampering. He'd probably be a big fatass too if he had a mom like her. Kyle knew that Cartman loved his mother. He was pretty sure that she was the only person Cartman did love in the whole world. It pleased him when Cartman was openly affectionate with her. It was reassuring to Kyle that Cartman was capable of love.

Liane waved a hand at him. "Oh, I think I can find some sugar-free snacks in the cupboard." She dashed off to the kitchen to get their treats. How did Liane know that he was diabetic? He looked at Cartman and tried to determine if it was possible that he'd mentioned it to his mom. He ruled that out as impossible, since Cartman never seemed to even remember that he was. Liane must have talked about it with his mom.

"We'll be upstairs mom!" yelled Cartman. He started up the stairs to his room. Kyle took that as his cue to follow.

It was weird being over at Cartman's without the others. Usually if he was here alone with Cartman, it was because he was full of unbridled fury because of something awful that had been done to him. It felt like a lot of his childhood with Cartman had gone that way. Adolescence had changed Cartman. Not that he wasn't still evil, selfish, and vindictive, but now it was all seemed to be done in a half-hearted manner. It was like Cartman had more important things to think about, but Kyle was still an easy target.

Kyle knew that Cartman wanted to get out of South Park, had made no effort to conceal it. He figured that Cartman was waiting for graduation and then he'd be gone. South Park wouldn't be the same without him and more than that, it hurt a bit to think of him gone. Graduation was just one of those life-changing events and Kyle was smart enough to see that there was no avoiding those changes. Besides, once he and Stan finished up community college, they'd be gone from South Park in two years themselves. He could hardly resent Cartman for doing it first.

He sat in Cartman's computer chair. The butt dent was huge, the padding practically gone. Kyle wondered if he spent that much time in it or if Cartman was just that fat.

"So, why'd you bring me here?"

"Because I wanted to talk and your mom is nosy bitch. I didn't want her interrupting us." Cartman didn't mention that he didn't want her to discover her son's new destructive path and go on some ape-shit campaign to end self-mutilation. Sheila Broflovski could turn _anything_ about herself. If she knew that Kyle was cutting himself, suddenly it would be something that she had to get involved with. She'd wig out and ground Kyle, then completely ignore him while trying to stop others from cutting themselves. She was fucking crazy, bossy, and bitchy; Cartman didn't want to get her attention.

"Interrupt what?" asked Kyle apprehensively.

Hadn't he just fucking said? Cartman rolled his eyes at the supposedly smart boy sitting in his computer chair. It would never have occurred to Cartman that Kyle's mistrust was valid. From his perspective, he was being selflessly benevolent, never mind that getting Kyle to confess would be proving the Cartman was right or that having him this close to his bed was turning him on.

Cartman's mom came to the door holding a tray of decadent look foods. She smiled at them both. "Snacky time." The chocolate desserts looked heavenly to Cartman whose stomach immediately started talking. He snatched some up and grabbed the glass of milk. Since Kyle was sitting where he normally did, he had to sit on the bed. It was a really comfortable bed with high thread count sheets and cushy blankets. He'd picked that up from his mother, since she bought nice bedding.

Liane stood next to Kyle while setting down the tray. He noticed that she smelled like flowers. "These are sugar-free just for you Kyle," she said, beaming down at him. He smiled shyly back up at her.

"Well, I don't work tonight, so if you boys need anything else, just let me know." Her comment about working made Kyle feel a bit uncomfortable. Cartman didn't seem to respond to it at all. "Okay mom," was all Cartman said. She left the room, shutting the door respectfully behind her. Kyle understood how even an asshole like Cartman could love her.

Cartman bit into the snack cake while considering how to start this conversation. He could easily overpower Kyle and rip his clothes off to reveal new marks, but then that would make him the bad guy instead of the understanding friend. Also, it was a little too much like those forbidden fantasies of his. "Did you do start again because of the fork guy?"

Kyle's eyes darted to Cartman on the bed. He should have realized that he'd been figured out. Expletives ran through Kyle's head. So, Cartman had brought him here and taken him out of his element so that he could get Kyle to confess. He still wasn't even sure why Cartman cared, but Kyle still felt guilty over his broken promise. There weren't' very many times when Cartman did something nice and he didn't mean to discourage that behavior. Being caught was making him feel like a kid caught misbehaving. It was interesting that the fork thing was what Cartman had latched onto though. No reference to him being the new boyfriend in his mother's life. He wished it was as easy for him to write off Oliver.

"Was he a jerk?" Cartman asked, though he'd received no answer to his last question.

Kyle didn't want to answer questions about this. He stayed silent and surprisingly, so did Cartman. Several minutes of uncomfortable time passed. Kyle was thinking about the previous night and wondering what Cartman was thinking of, what he was trying to accomplish.

"Why do you do it Kyle?" There was his name in that whiny tone that Cartman sometimes used, his name sounding like "Kahhl." It was almost like a nickname and Kyle had liked it for years. Not that Cartman didn't have plenty of nicknames, but all the others were meant to insult. Kyle was also Ginger, Jew, Kosher boy, among many others.

He considered Cartman's question. He didn't know why he should tell Cartman. Was he really interested or just trying to get him to come clean? It wasn't always easy to see through Cartman's tricks since he was such a proficient manipulator. Kyle thought about why he had done it, remembering his feelings of that night were hard.

"Does it make you happy?" asked Cartman.

"No," Kyle replied, surprised that he'd spoken. He just didn't want Cartman thinking that he was doing it for the wrong reasons. "It makes me… calm, I guess."

"Doesn't it hurt?" Instead of feeling happy that he was making progress, Cartman was bothered by Kyle's assertion that self-mutilation was calming.

"Yeah, that's kind of the point," answered Kyle. Then he felt that he'd been a bit snippy and thought he'd add something to make it seem less harsh. "It has to hurt enough."

"Enough for what?" asked Cartman. He was looking up at the spider webs forming on his ceiling fan. He fucking never used the thing. It pretty much only existed so that Cartman could clean it.

"…To stop the other pain."

Oh, the emotional pain. Cartman recalled the other night when he'd stayed up with his unconscious mother. He'd watched her chest rise and fall and hoped with each breath that it didn't stop. Trying not to check her pulse before the hour he'd allotted had been pure hell for him. Her soft face against the pillow had looked so peaceful when he'd come in, too peaceful. He'd been positive for one second that she was dead. When had Kyle ever felt that kind of pain? All he was whining about was a new man that his mom was fucking. Fuck, if Cartman did that, he'd never get anything done.

He looked over at Kyle, sitting in the computer chair looking sad. With anger in his voice, Cartman said, "You are such a pussy. What would you do if you had real fucking problems?"

Kyle looked at Cartman in surprise. "Like you do?" he asked incredulously. Not five minutes ago Cartman's mom had been serving them. Kyle didn't understand how anyone as obviously spoiled as Cartman could accuse anyone of being a pussy. There was an image in his mind of Cartman in Canada when they were in fourth grade. Cartman had threatened to beat him up if they missed Christmas. Well, they had missed Christmas and Cartman acted like they were going to fight, so Kyle had taken the initiative and very lightly hit him. Cartman had screamed for like five fucking minutes for his mom. It was this aspect of the child Cartman that Kyle pictured when he questioned Cartman.

"Ever tried having a crack-whore mother who is really your father?" asked Cartman. He instantly regretted saying a word. Now he was sitting around whining about _his_ problems, when he'd been trying to get Kyle to open up about his. Cartman had a policy of never talking about his real feelings with anyone.

Kyle hadn't thought about how Cartman's mom was a hermaphrodite in years. She just seemed so feminine that it didn't really seem like she was. As for the crack-whore thing, he knew that bothered Cartman. Since everyone knew it was a sore spot with him that was the first place they went when antagonizing him.

"My real father doesn't even want to be my father anymore. He only has me and Ike over like, once a month." Kyle hadn't even talked to Stan this bluntly about it. "The fork guy thing just kind of added to it."

Cartman turned onto his side to face Kyle. "Why don't parents ever fucking think about what we might want?"

Kyle just shrugged. "We're all selfish. I guess it just doesn't change even after we have kids." That was a depressing thought. Kyle liked to imagine that something noble took hold of a person once they had kids, but now he was seeing that might just be wishful thinking. He smiled at Cartman. "That's kind of depressing though."

It had been a good observation, thought Cartman. He shook his head. "No, it's true. You're not as stupid as you look," he added.

For some reason that made Kyle laugh. Even compliments had to be laced with insults when they came from Cartman. This was more personal than any conversation they'd ever had. It was nice being this comfortable with Cartman. Any time that he felt a bit of like towards Cartman, it made loving him a teensy bit easier.

"Still, you're a fucking liar."

Defensively, Kyle retorted, "I didn't lie about anything fatass."

"You didn't say anything when I was looking at your arms this morning and a lie by omission is still a lie."

Kyle couldn't help but laugh. This coming from Cartman was too fucking rich. He was going to get a lecture on right and wrong from a guy that had tricked a little boy into eating his parents? "Shut up Cartman. You're a fucking sociopath with no clue about anything."

Cartman frowned. He didn't know why he had expected Kyle to give him an easy win. Maybe he'd grown too used to the defeated Kyle. It wasn't fair. He had known that Kyle had started cutting again and he wanted to be proven right; he deserved it. "Fuck you Kyle. I'm just trying to help."

Kyle stood up from Cartman's chair. He was angry and honest to God, it was when Cartman thought he looked the most beautiful. "Yeah! What the fuck is that about Cartman? You don't fucking help anyone."

Cartman snorted, feeding another piece of food into his mouth. "Well, I see how rewarding it is."

He hated when Cartman acted like a human being because it threw him off. He was fairly sure that Cartman was just trying to manipulate him, but he couldn't figure Cartman's angle. What was it that he hoped to gain? Was it just being able to see Kyle in a vulnerable state? Did he get off on seeing the bloody marks? "But you don't care about me and I'm sick of you acting like you do."

Cartman reached over to set the milk on his nightstand, then dusted off the crumbs that were on his belly. "Show me Kyle."

For a dumb second, Kyle had no idea what Cartman was talking about. Then he realized that Cartman wanted to see the new cuts. It would serve Cartman right if he did just drop trou right here. Cartman couldn't honestly expect him to strip right here in front of him. He shook his head. "No."

"Start with the shirt," suggested Cartman. He wanted to see how bad they were, where they were. He'd sooner have admitted to being overweight than admitting that he was worried about his friend.

"Why the hell would you want to see?" demanded Kyle angrily.

Cartman realized the importance of the question and even though he knew he should act reluctant to manipulate Kyle into showing him, he really did want to see. He knew it would hurt him to see, just like the ones on Kyle's arm had done, but he needed to. "Because I think you want to show me."

There it was, laid out for him. Kyle did want to show Cartman, well, wanted to show someone anyway. He wanted his emotional pain represented on his body, like a twisted performance art. He wanted to reveal who he was these days, after his family had torn apart who he'd thought he was.

Kyle pulled off his hat. There was no gloating in Cartman's eyes. It could just be that Cartman was putting on a good act of actually caring so that Kyle would be there, stripped naked in front of him. Whatever, thought Kyle as he took off his jacket. It was too warm in the room for it anyway. He yanked his shirt over his unruly red hair. It was weird being topless in front of someone outside of a locker room.

It was almost like he wanted to reward Cartman for potentially manipulating him, but Kyle was hoping that wasn't the case. He truly hoped that Cartman hadn't just asked him questions for the sole purpose of proving that he was right or making Kyle feel guilty for breaking his promise. "Do you still want to see?" he asked, with a hand on his belt.

Cartman nodded his head. "Do you want to show me?"

Yes, in a way Kyle did want Cartman to see; in about ten million other ways, he didn't. Just showing his arms to Cartman at the arcade had been humiliating enough. Was he seriously offering to show the ones on his fucking thigh?

"You don't have to," Cartman said, eyes making contact with Kyle's to reinforce his point. He was surprised to find that he really meant it. He wasn't sure what this hold was that Kyle seemed to have on him. He hoped that he wouldn't turn into a fucking goody two-shoes too.

Kyle shivered. "No, you were right." He unclasped his belt causing his pants to immediately drop to the ground with the weight of his wallet and cell phone adding to gravity.

Cartman sat up then, surprise in his eyes. He couldn't even see the cuts, but he did see just how thin Kyle had become. Fuck, why had he been worried about some stupid cuts when Kyle had obviously been harming his body way more than that? "Christ, you look like fucking Holocaust victim."

Kyle's hands covered his midsection self-consciously and Cartman regretted having said anything, but damn it was shocking. He pushed himself off the bed to stand in front of Kyle. Kyle looked so damn weak and powerless. He was small and thin and would have been naked except for the briefs. Cartman wanted to like, feed him and hold him at the same time. He was like some kind of hurt animal that needed nursed back to health; Cartman had always been a sucker for nurturing animals.

He resisted the urge to say more about how thin and broken Kyle looked. He waited for Kyle to resume pulling off his pants.

Kyle bent down and pushed the jeans over his feet, sliding off his shoes in the process. Then there he was, exposed in front of Cartman. If it was all just trickery, Cartman would have won again, but from the look in Cartman's eyes, he didn't think it was. Did his body look as bad as Cartman's eyes told him that it was? There was always just the chance that Cartman didn't know what a healthy body weight was supposed to be. Maybe he was just comparing Kyle to what he looked like and in that case anyone would look like an anorexic.

Cartman was less than an arm's length away when he asked, "Where are they?" Kyle could smell the sugar on Cartman's breath. He probably blushed when he looked down, turning his knee outward slightly to reveal the mishmash of bandages that he'd put on the area this morning.

To his surprise, Cartman dropped down to one knee and looked where Kyle had indicated. He'd never had another person in that position in front of him before and sure as hell had never thought it'd be Cartman. He'd thought about it before, but then it had been for much sexier reasons.

He saw that Kyle had used the small bandages that were meant for little fingertip cuts. There were at least ten, in zagging patterns to try and cover the marks. It wasn't surprising that there were areas where blood had traveled down Kyle's legs, in between the bandages. Cartman took a hold of one of the corners of the bandages. He paused long enough to allow Kyle to object, when no objection came, he pulled. The adhesive mess came up as a whole, revealing the messy, soon-to-be infected cuts beneath. Kyle hissed in pain somewhere above him.

Cartman wanted to yell the instant he saw the eight parallel marks. He wanted to shake Kyle until some sense came into that stupid Ginger brain. Instead, he looked closer at them, noticed that they varied in depth. The first one was more shallow than the others. It was like Kyle had gotten desensitized after only the first one. Cartman was angry, but at the same time, it also made him want to cry.

As Cartman stood up, he growled, "Why is everyone else so fucking incapable of taking care of themselves? Why does it always have to be me?" He paced around the room with pissed off energy. "She can't take care of herself; you can't take care of yourself. It's like I'm the only one that knows how."

Kyle was amazed by Cartman's reaction. He just watched as Cartman continued his mobile rant. "Look at you!" He stabbed an irate finger at Kyle's stomach. "You're both so goddamn stupid, it's unbelievable."

He stood nose to nose with Kyle. "Why does everyone that I care about do this shit?" If Cartman realized what a bold admission this was, it didn't seem that he noticed. Kyle, for his part, was so floored that Ed McMahon could have burst in with his million dollar check and he still would have been more surprised by Cartman's words. Cartman's breath huffed on him. It was warm against his face.

Cartman cares about me, thought Kyle. Oh god, did Cartman _love_ him? Was that why he gave a shit what Kyle did to himself? "What?" he asked, confused.

The look on Cartman's face was like Wile E. Coyote when he was about to fall off a cliff. There was that realization that he'd just run too far and was no longer on solid ground. Kyle could nearly picture him pulling out an umbrella to prepare for the fall.

Cartman had been so caught up by what he'd seen, that he'd just said something to Kyle that he had never said to himself. His anger washed away quickly and became shame. He had never recognized that he loved Kyle Broflovski and now was a really bad time to do that. His lips pressed tight together as if they could rescind the words hanging in the air.

Kyle was staring at him as though he was an alien, which at the moment wasn't far from the truth. Cartman wanted to find a very deep hole to crawl into. Okay, he had to think this through. All he'd said was that he cared about Kyle. He hadn't said that he loved him. That could mean that he just considered Kyle a good friend, which was humiliating enough. Yes, when Kyle asked him what he'd meant, that was the explanation he would offer. It was all going to be okay. He just had to be clever and not as much as fucking stupid as he'd been in the last five minutes.

There wasn't any grand inquisition though, because after nearly thirty seconds had passed, Kyle kissed him. Kyle, the Ginger Jew Rat that haunted his dreams and his heart, kissed him. Kyle's lips were pressed softly against his and Kyle's hands were cupping his face. They were both looking at each other, eyes wide, though it looked to each like one cyclopic eye since they were so close together. Because of the height difference, Cartman had had to incline his head down to Kyle. He wasn't sure how his body had known to do this, since he hadn't even realized that they were going to kiss until they were already doing it.

Cartman's lips parted and then captured Kyle's. Kyle felt the blood rush through every individual artery and vein in his body. He kissed Cartman back, keeping his lips open. When Cartman's arms wrapped around him, Kyle pushed his tongue forward into Cartman's mouth. Cartman licked his back. His lips felt on fire, hell most of his body did. He hadn't felt anything as good as being held by Cartman and kissed, ever.

Kyle lowered his hands from Cartman's round cheeks to the back of Cartman's head. He pulled Cartman, urging him to kiss him more. Cartman obliged, his hands also drifting lower. Cartman's hands tugged on his ass, pulling their lower torsos tightly together. Kyle felt both their erections bump together and he moaned a bit into Cartman's mouth.

They continued kissing and groping, occasionally switching which sides their heads tilted. Kyle's hands ruffled Cartman's hair, then pulled on the strands. Cartman seemed to like this, since he kissed with more fervor when Kyle did.

Eventually, even the best kisses had to end and though Kyle had only had two other kisses in his life, he knew this was definitely the best that he would ever have. Both boys broke off kissing at the same time, taking the time to breathe and to suck up excess saliva that belonged to whomever.

They stared at each other. That had been hot and weird. Both were terribly flustered and simultaneously aroused.

Kyle looked about the room which looked so different than it had when he'd first come up the stairs. The clock read eight o'clock, but he had no idea of when they'd gotten to Cartman's house. He was feeling very twilight zone.

"If you ever do that to me again…" Cartman started. Kyle was completely still as Cartman struggled to finish his sentence. Normally quick on his verbal feet, Cartman was having trouble thinking with the six thousand emotions flitting like a flurry in his head. "You'd better know what you're starting, cause you're way too much trouble for a booty call."

So, that wasn't the "I'll fucking kill you," that he'd been expecting. Kyle heard the words and attempted to decrypt them. He took the first part "…know what you're starting" to mean that there was more to be had. Oh god, he wanted more, but the second part about being too troublesome to be a booty call worried him. If Cartman meant more than sex, what could he mean? Could Cartman actually be talking about a relationship?

"You…I…what?" he asked stupidly.

Cartman pushed Kyle away from him then. He was feeling vulnerable, a sensation that Cartman didn't often feel. "Go put some clothes on, you Auschwitz reject."

Kyle's lips snarled at the vulgar insult. He didn't like being pushed away, but he could sense Cartman's embarrassment and knew why he was putting up this barrier. It was similar to why Kyle had initiated the kiss. For some reason, they were both exposing themselves to each other. Kyle had demonstrated to Cartman his need to be cared about and his desperation in regards to his own life. In a way, Cartman had shown the same thing.

Kyle's anger didn't stick, couldn't after what they'd just shared. He grabbed his pants off the floor.

"Wait," said Cartman. His eyes didn't meet Kyle's. "Those cuts need cleaned first. There's stuff in the bathroom."

Cartman hated that Kyle's well-being mattered more to him than enduring more of this humiliating moment. He was still so enflamed from Kyle's kiss that erotic images were flickering across his vision like he had a live porn feed in his brain.

'Why do you care?' Kyle wanted to shout. He didn't understand any of this. He didn't get why he'd kissed Cartman or why Cartman hadn't punched him. He sure as hell didn't understand why they were talking instead of kissing, which he didn't know why he wanted to do. "I… I can't just go into the hall naked."

Cartman walked to the closet to pull out a robe even while replying, "My mom's seen it before dumb ass." He tossed Kyle the robe.

Kyle pulled it over him. It was like a blanket with sleeves. It was blue plaid that was worn, but still fluffy and warm. Like everything else in the room, it smelled like Cartman, only stronger to Kyle since it was covering him.

He glanced up at Cartman who was already leaving the room. Kyle assumed he was leading the way to the bathroom, sort of a mom bodyguard.

Once in the bathroom, Cartman shuffled through the contents of the medicine cabinet. Kyle entered and shut the door behind him. Cartman lowered the toilet lid and set supplies atop it: hydrogen peroxide, Bactine, Neosporin, bandages, and cotton balls.

Kyle watched Cartman assemble his first-aid tools on the seat cover. He was amazed by how well-stocked Cartman's cabinet was. He was more surprised when Cartman patted the bathroom sink counter and said, "Up Jew."

Kyle's mouth dropped open and a sort of incredulous look passed over his face. Cartman chuckled a bit. "Look, just pretend it's one of those doctor's tables with that really loud crackly paper."

Was Cartman actually planning on cleaning the cuts himself? Wasn't he bothered at all by their proximity to Kyle's genitals? Still, Kyle had no intention of hopping up on the counter like a dog at the groomers. He glared at Cartman.

"Look Ginger asshole, you're too damn short for me to clean them with you on the toilet, so just get up here so that you don't ruin my fucking back."

It made a kind of sense, but Kyle still felt insulted, even as he was moving to obey Cartman. He hoisted his butt up. The counter next to the sink was actually pretty roomy. His upper back rested against one side of the mirror.

It wasn't often that Cartman was eye-level with Kyle. It was kind of nice actually, even if he still looked angry about the dog joke. Hey, Cartman had found it funny. He turned on the tap and washed his hands. There was no use sanitizing the wounds with dirty hands. Kyle leaned a bit away from the sink to avoid getting a wet ass from any spray. Cartman was positively captivated by the flannel-clad bottom that was tilted away from him.

Cartman grabbed a cotton ball from its clear plastic container. His mom always bought high quality products. Not that they were really fancy cotton balls or anything, but they were name brand. He wet the cotton ball with disinfectant. He held the ball up for Kyle to see. Their eyes met for a moment and it fluttered Cartman's heart a bit. Kyle opened the front of the robe which he had been clutching around himself protectively.

Kyle was blushing as he revealed his nearly naked body again to Cartman. That wasn't anywhere near as embarrassing as having to open his legs so that Cartman would have access to his thigh. He could feel his pulse in his ears his blush was so intense.

It was arousing to see Kyle this way, his large robe resting on the smaller boy's shoulders, Kyle's underwear-clad body perched on the bathroom counter. Never had Kyle looked more enticing than with cheeks redder than his hair, one leg crooked to the side revealing the ravaged thigh.

Cartman's breath caught at the beauty of it. He wanted to be in control of himself, but his hand trembled slightly as he touched the cotton ball to the first cut.

Kyle inhaled quickly making a reverse "huh" sound. Cartman knew it was going to hurt, but he figured that Kyle must be used to pain by now. Still, he patted it softly and slowly. He looked up to check Kyle's pain level and found that Kyle was looking at him. Kyle was biting his lower lip lightly.

The bathroom felt incredibly warm to Kyle. He only had the robe on, so it had to be the pain causing the sensation. Only, he couldn't write it off entirely as pain. Cartman was watching him while ever so gently dabbing at his leg with the stinging cotton. He was no longer feeling vulnerable. Something about how Cartman was treating him made him feel safe and simultaneously alive.

It took many cotton balls to remove the dried blood and the newly starting blood caused by the cleanup. Through it all, Cartman kept checking on Kyle. Other than some wincing, Kyle seemed to be okay and his eyes never left Cartman.

Cartman's free hand rested on Kyle's uninjured thigh. The hand felt hot and a bit moist to Kyle. Each time that Cartman fetched a new cotton ball, he would replace that other hand on his leg. This enticed and intrigued Kyle, but he kept his eyes on Cartman's. He was afraid that acknowledging the touch would end it.

Finally, Cartman felt that the cuts had been sufficiently cleaned. He bent down and blew on the wet flesh, drying it for the Neosporin, but he heard a very faint sound from Kyle and he saw the skin goosebump. Again he checked Kyle's face. What he saw in Kyle's eyes was what he'd been seeing since this started.

Cartman used his fingertips for the Neosporin. He felt the raised skin. He didn't apply much, but Kyle's thigh became shiny with it.

Kyle observed Cartman opening the bandage container. The bandage he chose was way bigger than the little finger-sized ones he had used to make his covering that morning. It was the size of the box.

Cartman removed the adhesive backing from it and aligned it with Kyle's cuts. It didn't fit perfectly, but it was close and it was sure as hell better than what Kyle would have used.

With the bandage on, it felt sealed up and protectively padded, which Kyle knew was the point. Cartman standing directly in front of him, smiled. "And that's how first aid works you retard."

Neither spoke for a few moments until they both spoke in unison. Cartman said, "Well…" and Kyle said, "I…" They both shut up.

Kyle was the first to break the silence. He reached a hand out and touched Cartman's lips. He knew how they felt against his, but wanted to feel with his fingers. "I…" he continued. "Don't know what I'm starting Cartman." He paused for a few seconds as if really considering his words. "But, I want to anyway."

He replaced his fingers with his mouth and initiated another kiss with Cartman. When Cartman kissed him back like he had in Cartman's room, Kyle saw fireworks and heard fanfare. Cartman's arms went around him and pulled him in tightly.

Cartman had been expecting another kiss because he'd been seeing it in Kyle's eyes. He hadn't expected to enfold the small ginger up in his arms. It was incredible how right Kyle felt there and even more amazing that Kyle seemed to think so too.

Kyle didn't know how he could possibly try to be in a relationship with Cartman. They had always been enemies, always trying to hurt the other. Yet with all the bad things that Cartman had done to him or said about him, Kyle still loved him. There was good in Cartman that only he seemed to be able to see. Cartman worked so hard to keep up his reputation for deceit and malevolence, but Kyle had always perceived that loving side of Cartman. He'd seen how sweet Cartman always was to his mother, to his pets. He didn't care about many people in the world, but those that he did, he took care of. Cartman was trying to take care of him now and that showed Kyle that he had somehow been lucky enough to be one of the chosen few that held a place in Cartman's heart. He was not going to lose this opportunity; He was going to fight to remain there.

* * *

Thank you everyone for the wonderful reviews! Though I'm still a little unsure if my story being "so freakin good" that it made AlyssHeart puke a rainbow is a good thing… It's all those little notes praising each chapter that really kept me scribbling out more.

Anyway, Screamxaimxfire, GlitterBlings, AlyssHeart, Hypothisos, JusAgurl93x, Alex0821, and FamousLivingDead, you all rock.  Thank you for motivating!

The series will continue with a new story called Tentatively Falling. It'll involve Kyle and Carman trying to carve out a loving relationship from their formerly abusive one. While I'm sure they'll be facing some adversity, I'm hoping that it'll be a lot more squishy and hopefully light-hearted. All that angst was killing me to write!


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